


Soul pieces

by nynyve



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Death, Spoilers, The 100 (TV) Season 7, blood giants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nynyve/pseuds/nynyve
Summary: She’s gone too far this time. There can be no redemption.OrClarke shoots Bellamy for all the wrong reasons.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Soul pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an explanation to myself. I just can't believe this is all. I think there will be something more on the last 3 chapters concerning Bellamy's character, maybe he's not dead or maybe he is but in the end he comes back as a fucking robot, I don't know. What I do know is I loved his character and what he meant for the show. And I know that I can't believe how they handled his death. I just can't. So I tried to give myself an explanation for all of this nonsense.  
> I hope it gives you a little bit of comfort too.

-

‘You failed the test’ the disciple says and Clarke’s eyes fight to adjust to the bright white light, tears still falling freely, wetting her cheeks.

‘W-what...?’ her head is pounding with a low vibration, pain starting to build under her eyes, the consequences of what she did just seconds ago still echoing in her soul. Did she just...?

‘You are not suited to fight for all mankind, Clarke Griffin’ the man says, and his voice seems a little sad. ‘You did the right thing for the wrong reasons. Your primal instincts to protect only your family are-‘

‘Fundamentally wrong’ Cadogan’s voice startles her. Lying on that medical chair unable to move her limbs brings some nasty memories from Sanctum. But her brain is still foggy, trying to process what’s happening right now, because ten seconds ago she was in a big room shooting _Bellamy_.

No. It’s not possible. She would have _never_! No.

But the memory plays again: his words, his desperation, the book. Her own hand pulling the trigger.

She’s sobbing and the disciple watches her with a frown. ‘Sir’ he starts, ‘maybe we should give her a minute to-‘

‘Yes, it would be the nice thing to do, right? But, unfortunately, we are running out of time. We need to know what was in that book and how to access it. If miss Griffin here is not ready to pass the test she’ll be better off in Penance while we talk to her friends and daughter.’ A couple of disciples enter the room following Cadogan’s order. ‘Get everything ready to send this lady to Penance as soon as possible. Meanwhile, please, get her to a cell and give her a proper meal before departing. She’s going to need it.’

For the first time in her life, Clarke doesn’t resist. She lets the soldiers take her as easily as they would carry a doll. Her exhaustion is starting to get replaced by a deep, unsettling sorrow. She’s gone too far. She’s done the one thing she thought she could never do.

Her soul is corrupt.

Love, for her, is weakness.

-

She’s lying on the mattress, resignedly waiting. Years of loneliness are her punishment for pulling that trigger. And she fucking deserves it.

Her eyes are full with tears again. Was the test real? She couldn’t even tell reality and simulations apart anymore. Did she really shoot Bellamy Blake on the heart over a fucking book? In the end it didn’t even matter, right? She did it, even if it was not real, even if she didn’t really stood on that fucking throne hall with a gun on her hand, her brain decided killing him was the only logical way of saving Madi.

Killing him. A sob escapes her chest. _Killing Bellamy_.

She’s been on the verge of it so many times her soul is probably fragmented now. But she learnt her lesson, she wrote that fucking wish, she said ‘you’re my family’. He’s always been the best part of herself. Her heart when she thought she hadn’t one anymore. Selfless, heroic Bellamy Blake, rebel king with a gentle soul. None of those things changed even after being brainwashed by a fucking cult. He was still her Bellamy underneath all those white robes, pleading with her to do better.

Clarke feels her body sink on the soft surface like it’s made of stone. The heart is gone, and the head isn’t properly working. She didn’t even get the damn book. Then, what was all for? Maybe she is broken beyond repair.

Maybe she really _is_ the commander of death.

-

‘Clarke’ a soft voice calls. The room is dark and she’s been dozing out a few times, her brain too numb to think about anything. Her eyes take a couple of minutes into adjusting to the scarce light and see the figure kneeling besides her.

His white robes confuse her for a second. He’s tall and the skin of his hand against her arm looks dark. But then the curls...

‘Bellamy?’ she breathes. He’s staring into her soul, his soft eyes watching her closely. ‘Bellamy. Bellamy. Bellamy!’ the sound her hoarse throat makes is almost a cry, and he closes his eyes. She’s sobbing again, repeating his name, unable to do anything more.

‘Clarke, you didn’t pass the test’ his voice sounds pained, somewhat restrained.

‘I killed you’ her hand touches his cheek and the moment his solid jaw makes contact with her skin she starts trembling uncontrollably. ‘You are real, but I shot you.’ She did, a couple hours ago, or maybe days, Clarke’s not sure anymore because time seems an unreliable thing since they arrived on Bardo.

He’s not dead, but her heart aches all the same.

‘Yes, you did’ he whispers back, and his brown irises are full of sadness ‘You did, but for the wrong reasons.’

‘There isn’t a good reason to hurt you, Bellamy’ Clarke states through her tears. His face is so close she can see his freckles. Her heart is stomping in her ribcage. _He is here_. He is not dead.

‘You should have done it to save mankind, to show your love is selfless’ his words are carefully chosen and his demeanour calm, but his eyes seem to be shining too. ‘You should... I can’t save you now, Clarke, they will take you to-‘

‘Bellamy, my love has never been selfless. All I have ever done was for my people, and ever since that day in the Mountain I have known it was wrong. My people... Jasper was right. We are doomed. We can’t exit this damn circle of hurting and killing and excluding others from what we have. I just proved that to myself. I pulled that trigger because I convinced myself my love for Madi was bigger than my love for you.’

‘In order to achieve transcendence and save mankind we have to do sacrifices, we have to suppress our individual love’ he recites, his eyes now fixed on the wall.

‘Bellamy, look at me. Look at me, please. Please’ he does, reluctantly. ‘What I did, what happened on Sanctum, that wasn’t love. That was fear. I was afraid you’ll end up hurting Madi. Love isn’t a weakness, but fear is. I learnt that lesson long ago but somehow I end up repeating the same mistakes over and over. I guess I have done this too many times and my soul is really corrupted now, I guess Jasper was right.’

‘He was not’ he says, and for the first time in a long time he resembles that young man exiting form a tent with a gun in his hand. ‘We can do better, you too. Monty knew.’

‘I can’t. Not without you. And I don’t understand you now. I have lost you and myself in the process.’

His voice is soft now. ‘You’ll never lose me. I love you.’ The words pierce her as a sharp knife. No. _No._ She just killed him. His heart is pure, hers is just broken beyond repair.

‘I don’t deserve your love.’

‘Oh, princess. It’s not about what you deserve; it’s about who we are’ there are his freckles again, too close, his lip and his eyes, his hands caressing her arms, holding her, just like that day in a ship a million years ago. His kiss is barely a caress, a small moment suspended in time.

Clarke’s eyelids feel heavy under his touch, her body almost curled in his lap, warm and safe and _home_.

‘Who are we?’ she asks; sleep almost taking over her completely. She hears his voice rumbling in his chest, one last time.

‘The heart and the head. Us. Together.’

-

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted it to be deliberatedly ambiguous so you can decide if he's dead or not. Maybe it's just a dream. Maybe it's the way Clarke's brain tries to justify what she just did. Or maybe really it was all a simulation and we are all clowns.  
> Hugs to all of you.


End file.
